


Everything I Need

by shortstackedcheesecake96



Category: South Park
Genre: Alternate Universe - Online Dating, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-05
Updated: 2016-02-05
Packaged: 2018-05-18 10:55:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5925865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shortstackedcheesecake96/pseuds/shortstackedcheesecake96
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After his beloved Gary leaves him, Stan finds himself at a romantic crossroads. Now would be the time to take risks and try something new, and the intriguing Eric and Kyle may be just what he needs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Everything I Need

**Author's Note:**

> My first foray into Styleman (and perhaps not the last). This was a lot of fun to write, especially from Stan's POV (which I rarely do) so I'd love to know what you guys thought of my portrayal of him. I hope you enjoy and thanks for reading!

Another day of being single, another humiliating night spent trawling the internet's many dating sites.

The TV chattered to itself, oblivious to the state of Stan's love life and the emptiness in the apartment he still felt so acutely. But he couldn't think about that. Nope, he had to concentrate on…

_Twoishalfthefun_

Stan sighed to himself, relieving the pressure that must have been responsible for his red face. He thought by his third visit to this site he would be over the initial uneasiness of what he was tentatively embarking on. Then again, by his third visit he thought he would have found an appealing, willing couple and a date to look forward to.

But would it be a date? Having not made one, Stan didn't know. After all, you usually go on a date in the hopes of _becoming_ a couple, not so you can sleep with an already established one.

_So it's not a date, then? It's more like a… booty call?_

Stan groaned to himself, wanting to faceplant the keyboard.

 _But what's wrong with that?_ (His 'new outlook' was trying to reach him again. A frame of mind he had installed when Gary left and despite the circumstances, they weren't getting along so well. His 'new outlook' was starting to sound like those overly enthusiastic camp counselors who had always interrupted Stan in the middle of his reading.) _You always said this wasn't about dating, or relationships, or… replacements… it was about getting laid. Need I remind you how long it's been since another person has been responsible for your orgasms?_

Maybe Stan did need to be reminded, time and dates were all muddled and blurry. All he knew was back then – when his amorous activities were sporadic, yes, but spontaneous and definitely satisfying – he hadn't needed to keep track of his orgasms. In fact, with Gary by his side, smiling into his neck with their fingers tangled, Stan could go for weeks without sex. Moments of affection and acknowledgements of love were enough to sustain him. In those pristine periods, Stan would revel a little smugly in the nature of their relationship, wondering if monks felt the same way. After all, the strength monks possess in order to keep their vow of chastity is channeled through their love of God, and Stan could relate to that... almost. Stan's handsome, kind-hearted Mormon boyfriend was his own piece of heaven.

But he supposed that for most monks abstinence means no second base as well, so maybe they weren't alike.

_Aren't you glad you're not a monk, though? No pledges of abstinence holding you back from screwing the plethora of gorgeous guys out there!_

Stan didn't need a plethora, he only needed one. He _had_ one. But as long as Gary's devout parents still had a hold on their son and the number of a lawyer to throw a restraining order Stan's way, he couldn't have him.

Stan had stopped being upset. On the surface. He had cried all he could have cried in four days, and got enough cramp in his legs to get him out of his bed in nine. His heart was still undoubtedly broken, for it creaked with the slightest weight of memory. But he was now officially angry. He was angry at Gary's parents for taking Gary away from him and also angry at himself, the reasons for which he could have listed forever. The first reason was that he couldn't do anymore to get Gary back which made him feel utterly pathetic, and the second reason was that he was a chicken. He was a self-conscious, over-thinking, awkward little chicken.

Not exactly sexy.

But he was a romantic, a helpless, optimistic one at that. Although he was wrestling with the very idea of love at the moment, he felt he had been betrayed by it. How could it lead him to somebody so wonderful, offer him a startling kind of happiness he never knew he wanted only to then have it all torn away? It was arguably cruel, and definitely unfair.

Beyond his friends' platitudes, beyond his new outlook that he had squeezed himself into like an outfit he was determined to wear, Stan still believed in love. He knew he'd never find another guy like Gary, but maybe there was somebody out there who was better than him? Or maybe there was just someone out there who fitted with Stan like Gary had, but in a way Stan wasn't expecting? With dried tears and a noticeable space in his bed, that was good enough for him.

Measured and pragmatic as he tried to be, Stan knew it was unlikely that he would find a new love straight away, and unwise of him to immediately go searching for it. His friends had offered alternatives, all involving casual sex. Stan could see their logic, and getting off with another person had become a novelty to him now, but hook-ups just weren't something he was familiar with.

His new outlook had tried to paint that as a good thing. If Stan could conquer what he was scared of, then nothing would ever faze him in a relationship again. God knows he'd been fazed plenty of times before. Online dating was another idea, if not to find a meaningful relationship then just so Stan could say he met somebody new. Besides, any disastrous dates could be written off as practice runs.

While his friends had continued to brainstorm possible routes for Stan's dating future, Stan's attention had drifted to the sound of his new outlook chattering in his ear. With Gary, everything had been so careful… perfect but careful, just what Stan had always wanted. But was it what he had needed? He wasn't sure. Maybe the only way to be sure, his new outlook had suggested, was to take risks. To take the scariest thing he could think of and just try it.

For Stan, threesomes were it. They seemed dangerous and thrilling and mysterious, words he would have never associated with himself. But that was exactly the point, if he met a nice couple, a pair of attractive strangers, he too could be as mysterious as the very thing he was terrified of. He could be anonymous and aloof and hopefully tantalizing.

He had flushed when the thought initially occurred to him, but had also hardened a little in his plaid pajama bottoms.

 _Twoishalfthefun_ was the only website he had signed up for in secret, and despite his persistent embarrassment and disappointing lack of prospects, Stan was still logging on in the hopes that this would be the visit where he'd stumble upon the perfect couple.

_23:20._

The witching hour was fast approaching and Stan had found nothing. Well, he had found a way to build up a resistance to the particularly distasteful and cringy summaries of some of the couples listed. So that was something.

Then striking red hair and twinned bright smiles caught his eye. In the photo, the sun shone behind the two men but didn't diminish their features or breezy, content expressions.

Those scarlet curls were so magnificent that even the sun wanted in on the action, sunbeams clearly weaving through them. They belonged to the shorter of the two men, a man with bitter green eyes, a crooked nose and a smile that teased out a smirk on Stan's face. The man was braced by a thick, strong arm, a chubby cheek pressed against his face's admittedly sharp architecture. Verdant irises were paired with indulgent caramel eyes, a shade to make Stan's mouth water. He snickered at chestnut hair being blown about by the wind, the infallible sweetness of a button nose on such a tall, broad guy, but his smirk was wiped away by a mouth grinning wickedly back at him. It was the type of grin that would shut Stan up instantly if he ever saw it in person.

It was the longest Stan had ever looked at a photo on the site. All the photos he had seen from other profiles were pretty unremarkable, and Stan was always drawn to their less than inspiring profile summaries first.

But this was different.

Stan's stomach that had become so used to sinking with regret was now fluttering under the weight of a thousand butterflies; his head had been propped up by his chin, trying to keep himself afloat in the thick waves of boredom and rising despair but now he was leaning closer to the screen, eyes wide as he bathed his face in the screen's glow; and those caramel and emerald pairs of cool, attentive eyes were making Stan flush. He could literally feel the weight of them _on him_. Chewing his lip, Stan nervously tugged at his shirt before deciding to put his shaking fingers to better use.

He clicked on their profile and read more about the captivating couple.

Their names were Eric and Kyle, and they lived in an apartment in Denver, Eric was a photographer for a local newspaper and Kyle worked in IT. They were both twenty eight like Stan, and had been together since their sophomore year of college. According to their profile, they were looking to 'try _something_ new by getting under the sheets with _someone_ new', specifically someone who was, 'tall, clean, handsome, versatile, sweet, charming and smart.'

Stan knew he checked off at least three of those things, he supposed the rest was down to subjectivity.

And the only way he would ever find out if he met their standards was if he had a drink with them. Dinner, perhaps?

To even consider meeting a couple was a huge first step for Stan, enough to make him want to jump out of his chair as if he had been possessed. His heart was sprinting, it seemed to be the only rational part of him as his increasingly agreeable new outlook had captured his common sense and appeared to be making a run for it.

The chat icon was tempting but terrifying, and Stan didn't know if the ache in his gut was dread or a pang only growing now he was faced with two attractive guys on his computer screen.

_You could be what they're looking for. If you really tried._

Stan could be sweet, charming, and he wasn't stupid. How long did he have to fool these guys for, anyway? A night?

Stan's breath snagged on a vivid, sweaty daydream.

_One really great night._

Heart thudding in his ears and hands shaking, Stan clicked on the chat icon (a relived sigh swelling in his lungs when he saw they were online) and mindlessly typed his first message.

If he didn't think about the message then there was no way he could overthink it, right?

" _hi :)_ _"_

Friendly, casual, as cool as Stan hoped it could be.

Although he hadn't overthought the message before sending it, staring at the lonely little sentence he had flung into the world and waiting for a reply sent Stan down a winding path, a path that led to the unruly thicket of his subconscious. The rational thought of 'maybe they're taking a while to reply because they're checking out your profile?' echoed aimlessly as Stan wandered down a self-destructive trail.

But before Stan could prick his self-esteem on a thorny, unpleasant thought, a message appeared:

" _Hey! :D"_

The response was cheerful, enthusiastic, enough to raise Stan's confidence.

" _I like your photo,_ " Stan replied, figuring his genuine comment could break the ice.

" _Thanks! We took it on vacation. I like your photo too."_

Stan's nose wrinkled, cheapening his flattered smile. He had taken his profile picture in the bathroom before work. He didn't know whether to look friendly or coy so he tried both and wound up with a very confused looking picture of himself. This, coincidentally, was exactly how he had felt whilst taking it.

" _you do?"_ Stan asked, ever the sceptic.

_Yes ;)_

The reply was enough to quash Stan's doubts but pique both his arousal and nerves.

Stan gulped, before he responded, " _okay thanks."_

He had only read his reply after it was sent, reading it with tones that were anything but grateful, let alone flirtatious. No, he had just come off as some weird, disobliging asshole.

" _You're even cuter than your picture,"_ the couple responded, before Stan could even attempt to salvage the message.

Surprised, he instead asked, " _I am?_ "

" _lol"_

Stan ducked his head and rolled his eyes as he typed, " _sorry. I'm bad at this."_

" _We've talked to worse. You're doing fine, just relax :)_ _"_

A grin tugged at Stan's mouth. Their reassurances that he wasn't totally inept at this, and that they too had experienced their fair share of horror stories on this site ridded his shoulders of anxiety. He pushed his chair closer to the computer, eager to continue this conversation.

" _thank you. who am I talking to anyway?"_ Stan asked.

" _Kyle. The redhead_." Was the reply.

That confirmation untangled another knot of stress. Although Stan found the tall brunet (that he now knew was Eric) very attractive, his stature and the way he had his arm wrapped so protectively around Kyle was rather intimidating, especially since this was their first encounter and Stan was yet to talk to him in person. Taking another glance at Eric, he reminded Stan of the beefier actors who always fucked guys like him in the pornos he used to watch in high school.

The realisation that he may be able to act out one of those scenes he had jerked off to added another arousing element to this arrangement… whatever it may be.

" _so where's your boyfriend?"_ Stan asked.

"S _itting right next to me_ ,"

Stan blinked, fingers hovering limply over the keys as his Adam's apple bobbed in his throat.

" _oh hi,"_ Stan responded, the nape of his neck was damp.

" _Lol, he said hi."_

Stan chuckled softly and rolled his eyes, as if Eric was going to be jealous of Stan talking to his boyfriend. They were on a website looking for a threesome, for Christ's sake!

Stan's nerves simmered, his apprehensions quietened, and the reality of the situation kicked in. They all wanted the same thing; they all appeared to be looking for the same thing… if not these guys, then who? And they _liked_ Stan, he hoped in the way he liked them.

Clutching that emboldened feeling and hoping nothing would prise it out of his grip, Stan typed: " _do you guys want to meet up friday night?"_

" _Sure :D."_ The response was a lot faster than when Stan had made that daunting first move. _"What did you have in mind?"_

" _we could have a couple of drinks somewhere?"_ Stan suggested, hopefully casual enough to take the pressure off both parties.

" _We'd love to. Where do you want to go, Stan?"_

Stan tripped over his first name, surprised by its presence but appreciating it and holding it close nonetheless.

" _anywhere,"_ Stan responded with a smile. " _I'm easy_."

Stan's eyes widened and his fingers flew across the keys when he realised what he had said.

" _not in that way!"_ He added, hopefully amending his error.

" _Haha, we were kind of hoping you were ;)"_

Stan stiffened in his seat in more ways than one, the flirtatious comment and all it promised racing a shiver down his spine. He didn't want to disappoint them.

" _oh then I am,"_

"H _ow about we just see where the night goes?"_

Stan sighed, a grin stretching across his face as he nodded.

" _yeah let's do that :)_ _"_ he responded.

" _We know a great bar. Salt 47 in Denver. Sound good?"_

Stan couldn't stop grinning as he typed, " _yeah great_ _"_

The realization that he had a date on Friday only came over Stan when they were exchanging numbers, the only part of the date-making process he was familiar with.

" _so I'll see you guys friday?"_ Stan asked, maybe a part of him thought this was a joke, or maybe he was in shock that he was even doing this.

" _Yeah, see you then. Bye Stan :)_ _"_

The use of his first name was enough to further entice him.

" _bye_ ," Stan replied, before logging off and sinking into his desk chair. If it weren't for his pounding heart, he could've sworn he had melted.

He couldn't sleep that night, switching feverishly from nervous to excited. Was it infuriating when he had work the next morning? Yes. But he felt alive again, and he had done that all on his own.

Well, with a little help from the intriguing Eric and Kyle too.

* * *

Friday had arrived and Stan's apprehension and excitement hadn't subsided. His love life was a ship entering rocky territory, especially now he was forced to take a different route than what he had originally planned.

The emergence of Eric and Kyle was a heavy downpour of humid, alarming rain, enough to thrash Stan in the violent, large waves but also recklessly push him forward. Stan didn't know whether to embrace the storm, to let himself go and get drenched, or to clamber helplessly for the possibly defunct steering wheel and make a hasty change in direction.

For now, he was charging forward, desperate and foolish enough (or so he believed) to ride the precarious waves.

The only person he had told of his Friday night date was Henrietta. She was the stoic cashier at the coffee shop near the veterinary practice Stan worked in, and daily conversations during his lunch break had cemented their status as friends. She may not have been the type of girl to meet Stan and his friends for a drink on the weekend, but she was startlingly wise and incredibly trustworthy. Stan often thought that her talent of secret-keeping stemmed from her nihilistic nature to not really care for much deep down. Regardless, Henrietta had become Stan's chief confidante.

When he had told her that he was going on his first date since Gary left, she responded with a gravelly, 'that's great'. The veil of smoke shielded her yellowing grin that Stan had only seen once or twice before. But its presence was encouragement enough for Stan to stutter out that it was with two people. At the same time. Henrietta didn't respond with a grin, she chose a wry smile and an arched eyebrow to express her surprise.

That had been Wednesday, and whenever Stan considered that perhaps threesomes with strangers may not be the type of thing he was capable of, whenever he considered if he was making a mistake, he saw Henrietta's face in his mind. The thoughts were as sour as cigarette smoke crawling up Stan's nostrils.

However, Stan had another (admittedly biased) source of encouragement he could turn to if he needed it. He had been texting Kyle the last couple of days. Stan feared each new text would be the trigger to Kyle's impatience, making him want to snap, "do you want to do this or not?!" Stan was sure there were plenty of guys out there that could take his place. Strangely, that thought wasn't so comforting.

But Kyle had been supportive, funny, and charming. It was enough to make Stan want to ask Kyle if they could meet up for a more platonic coffee date once they had… slept together. The notion seemed ridiculous, but not as ridiculous as sleeping with Kyle after only texting him for three days. Especially when Kyle had been so nice and reassuring, making rather sweet attempts to flirt with him that Stan had sheepishly reciprocated.

Texting Eric, on the other hand, felt more like an obligation. His intimidation still persisted for Stan, as well as formidable attraction that only grew whenever Stan looked at his and Kyle's profile picture. The fact that Eric had yet to contact him also made Stan wary. Besides, he had established some sort of exclusivity with his and Kyle's conversations. Would it be too weird for Stan to just start randomly texting Eric when they were so close to meeting up anyway?

Stan tried not to think about it on the bus ride home from work, diverting his thoughts to what outfit he was going to wear for their date.

His phone buzzed in his lap and he hoped it was from Kyle. Every text he received from him closer to the date only fuelled his anticipation. But his stomach flipped when he realised the text wasn't from Kyle.

It was from Eric.

Palms damp and mind whirring, Stan opened the message.

" _hey Stan, it's Eric. Are we still on for tonight?"_

Stan pursed his lips to control his smile, " _yeah, definitely :D"_ he replied.

Staring out the window and tapping his foot against the grimy bus floor, Stan willed for the seconds to go by faster so he could get his response.

His phone buzzed in his lap again, and Stan tried his hardest to not advertise his eagerness to the entire bus. But the vibration travelling up the sensitive inside of his leg made that rather difficult.

" _Kyle and I can't wait to meet you._ "

Stan read the message to himself five times, each time imagining those strong, thick arms in the picture wrapped around him roughly and pushing him against a wall; each time imagining that wicked grin paired with darkened eyes before those lips collided, hot and wet with Stan's mouth, kissing and sucking and biting…

" _I can't wait to meet you guys either."_ Stan managed to respond with damp fingers.

Eric had somehow turned Stan into a hot, flustered mess on the bus and he wondered if Eric was just as pliable, if he could offer him something just as enticing before they met tonight.

";)"

Stan typed, his thumb hesitating over the 'send' button before he closed his eyes and took the plunge.

The conversation had Stan nearly panting, and a knot of anxiety tightened in his stomach as he waited to know if his not-so-dangerous gamble had paid off.

His phone buzzed, Stan rushed to open the message.

" _so we'll see you at 9? ;)"_

Stan grinned to himself at the reciprocation, his anxiety dissipating but his confidence swelling.

" _yeah, see you then,"_ he replied.

Studying the conversation, Stan felt something was missing.

" _bye, Eric,_ " he added, trying to strike the balance between enthusiastic and coy.

" _bye, Stan,"_ was Eric's immediate response.

Stan smiled widely and stared out the window again, trying to think about his outfit when his mind kept redirecting him to a very much undressed Eric and Kyle.

* * *

Luckily for Stan, the bar was quiet when he sheepishly entered about fifteen minutes after their agreed meeting time. He figured that the aloof character he was attempting to play would always be fifteen minutes late to everything.

His character certainly would keep his hands by his sides – or in any available pockets – at all times. He wouldn't wring them nervously, passively creating some panicked sequence to be repeated over and over. His character's gaze would glide across the room like everything and everyone in it was smaller than him, he wouldn't scan the room compulsively. His character wouldn't be sweating. His character wouldn't linger. His character wouldn't have the door as a safety net. His character would never have bad ideas or make mistakes.

But Stan wasn't a faceless character, an archetype and idol for the socially awkward and generally guarded. No, he was just himself. He was plain, old Stan who for some reason Eric and Kyle – a pair of captivating strangers – had taken a liking to.

Kyle had texted Stan while he was in the cab, telling him of their whereabouts in the bar so Stan would be able to spot them. Stan sent back a description of his outfit, so they'd be able to recognise him too when he walked through the door.

Stan saw the couple five minutes upon entering, Eric's height and Kyle's hair were difficult to miss. He watched them drink, converse, sit closely together as they waited for him. He hoped one of them would raise their head and he would somehow be beguiling enough to catch their attention.

_But how will they be able to see you from all the way over here?_

Stan skirted the threshold of the bar proper, hands clasped in front of him as coyly as a teenager waiting for a proposal to dance. Tentatively, Stan stepped forward, every move felt cumbersome and he wished he possessed a softer, more elusive gait than what he had.

The bar clinked and mumbled on, oblivious. It wasn't enough to hasten his steps but enough to not make him freeze, mortified. Still, he paid no mind to the other patrons who were as equally disinterested in him. No, he looked only at Eric and Kyle, simultaneously his greatest fear and his greatest want in a world that was becoming alarmingly unfeeling.

Kyle's gaze lifted and sliced through the tension as recklessly as an emerald sabre. Stan hedged and waited, his breath teetering on the blade. Then, another sabre was pulled out of its sheath; a peerless smile blossoming from pink lips. Kyle appeared so genial and inviting that before Stan could register it he had raised his hand in a stiff wave.

Kyle's mouth pulled up in a grin that crinkled the corners of his eyes, before he rose from his seat and made his way over to Stan; propelled by a confidence Stan wished he had possessed five minutes ago.

"Hi!" Kyle beamed before coming to a stop in front of him. "You _are_ Stan aren't you?" He asked, raising one of his eyebrows as if he were only half in doubt.

"Y-yeah, that's me," Stan replied, an unimagined Kyle - not pixelated - in front of him was something he hadn't prepared for. "Kyle, right?"

Kyle's smile creased and his eyes brimmed gleefully when he nodded.

"Wow, it's so great to finally meet you!" He exclaimed, before pulling Stan into a hug.

Unfamiliar warmth, scent, arms around his shoulders, combined with a drought of physical contact as of late, overpowered Stan. It was an onslaught of strange, unconditional affection that he wasn't used to.

"Yeah," he said when he finally found his voice, inhaling Kyle's unavoidable cologne. "You too,"

Kyle was beaming when he slipped out of the embrace. "Come on, I'll introduce you to Eric."

Tugging at Stan's wrist, Kyle led them to their table, crowded by a couple of empty cocktail glasses and two in the process of being drained. Also on the table were two chunky forearms, crossed loosely yet purposefully over each other. The strained sleeves of an ice blue shirt started at a pair of round elbows, the fabric hugging fat biceps.

"Hi, Stan," a new voice calmly entered Stan's ears, and when Stan looked up he saw Eric's legendary wicked grin. It weighed down on Stan and made it difficult for him to stand.

"H-hi, Eric," Stan managed to get out, extending his hand for Eric to shake, and Eric wordlessly took Stan's hand into his warm, large one. His fingers were long and thick enough to make Stan imagine Eric holding parts of him other than his hand. It only made his legs feel heavier. "Nice to meet you,"

"Nice to meet you too," Eric replied, releasing Stan's hand. "You look great by the way. Doesn't he, Kyle?"

Stan blinked, smoothing down his shirt and ducking his head to hide the blush crawling up his throat. "Oh, I-"

"Yes," Kyle said, taking his seat, "very handsome."

Stan felt like he had swallowed a dumbbell when he gulped. "Um-"

"Aren't you going to sit down?" Eric asked.

It was only then Stan realised he hadn't, and that he was in fact still stood up and fidgeting.

"Actually, I was thinking maybe I should get a drink first," Stan said quickly.

"Oh yeah, sure," Kyle nodded. "The bar is right over there."

"Thanks," Stan replied, head bobbing gratefully before he turned on his heels.

He was so quick to get a drink, to remove himself from the situation and regroup that he remembered he hadn't thanked Eric and Kyle for their compliments or indeed complimented _them_. And judging by his first impressions and the nature of Stan's thoughts upon meeting them in person he knew they deserved to be complimented.

"Oh, and thanks again," Stan said as he turned back around.

Kyle furrowed his eyebrows before he asked, "for what?"

"The compliments," Stan explained, wringing his hands again. "Telling me I looked nice. I appreciate it since you two- I mean you're really – um, you look great tonight too."

There was a time to be breathless and fawning and perhaps that time wasn't minutes into meeting each other, especially when Stan was still sober.

Kyle and Eric exchanged amused, flattered smiles and Stan hoped they hadn't noticed his burning face.

"Thanks a lot," Eric smirked.

Stan nodded, unsure, before swiftly turning around and heading for the bar.

When he knew he was out of earshot, Stan muttered to himself, "fuck!"

He was flushed and nearly breathless with embarrassment when he reached the bar. Any onlookers must have thought he was having a heart attack, while Stan wondered if his shakiness, the stabs in his chest and his thumping heart were more panic related. Hopefully alcohol would be a sufficient band aid, fuck knowing better.

"What can I get you?" The bartender asked, unaffected by Stan's demeanor.

"A scotch neat, please?" The question scorched Stan's throat.

"Coming right up," the bartender nodded as Stan collapsed into a stool and tried not to slump on the bar.

After a scotch was slid his way and Stan paid the bartender, he didn't return to Eric and Kyle's table. Instead he sat there, too mortified to get off the stool and too worked up to face the couple and the night's intentions without having a panic attack.

He chose to jump in at the deep end – or rather, his loathsome new outlook had pushed him in – and he was drowning, those dangerous waves that he had tempted now clamouring over him. His plan had backfired and he had to stew in it for a while, lick his wounds and figure out the least painful way to escape.

Perhaps he was so unremarkable, had proved himself to be such a bumbling idiot to Kyle and Eric that they wouldn't notice he was gone. Hell, maybe they'd even be _glad_ he never returned to their table. They'll have the great night they had wanted, just without him, and go home with the knowledge that they'd never have to keep in contact.

Stan would miss conversing with Kyle (however briefly their friendship had lasted), and he would be a little saddened that he never discovered what Eric's hands were capable of but every great mistake has its tantalising factors. It's just unusual for these factors to be actual flesh-and-blood.

If Stan was living his life like a star-gazer observing the night - with experience being an oil-black sky and constellations the relationships his existence consisted of - then Eric and Kyle were nothing more than shooting stars; unexpected diamonds that rip across the canvas, capture your attention, fill your heart with temporary joy and promise hope before they fizzle out and wander away. Always spectacular and only tainted by loss.

"Hey,"

Stan turned to the voice across the bar. He saw it was Kyle, leaning against the rail, looking just as tentative and self-conscious as Stan had been upon entering. So he _was_ fallible… interesting.

"Oh, hi," Stan replied softly, but his voice was raspy from the drink.

"Are you alright?" Kyle asked and edged closer with a dent in his brow.

"Yeah, fine," Stan said, hollow. He couldn't look at Kyle when he spoke, choosing to circle the rim of his tumbler instead.

"Then why are you hiding out here?"

"I…" Stan wanted to make an excuse, but realised he didn't have it in him. "I don't know."

Kyle sighed and edged closer again.

"We scared you, didn't we?" He asked, in a way that implores an answer. "We're coming on a little too strong?"

"No," Stan shook his head, heat pinching his face, "it's not that."

Kyle was close enough now that Stan could feel him deflate. "Stan…"

"It really isn't!" Stan exclaimed, looking up at Kyle for the first time and seeing his troubled expression. "Maybe I just scare easy?" He asked quieter.

"Yeah," Kyle sighed and sat on the stool next to Stan "I can tell from your texts you've been a little apprehensive."

"And that wasn't a complete turn-off for you guys?" Stan mumbled, averting his gaze again.

"No!" Kyle chuckled and shook his head, before admitting, "We're nervous too."

Realization glowed and pierced the overwhelming fog.

"You are?" Stan asked, sliding his gaze to Kyle.

Eyes wide and smile sympathetic, Kyle nodded.

"Could've fooled me," Stan remarked.

"I guess we hide it better because it's the two of us," Kyle shrugged. "We can put on a united front, you know?"

"Ugh," the noise made Stan want to slump. "I miss that."

"You've broken up with someone recently?" Kyle guessed, tilting his head.

Stan took a shattered breath and nodded, even thinking about Gary was exhausting.

"Oh," the soft sound slipped from Kyle's mouth. "You didn't tell me that in our conversations."

"Yeah, I'm trying not to think too much about it… A- about him," Stan replied, voice quiet so as not to reveal too much.

Kyle nodded as if he understood, as if he hadn't been in a relationship for nine years.

"That's why I signed up for that website…" Stan felt silly saying the name out loud so he chose not to. "The one I met you guys on."

Kyle's gaze switched between Stan and the oak bar, waiting for Stan to continue.

"I don't normally do stuff like this, it terrifies me," Stan admitted. "But I figure that being safe and cautious hasn't gotten me very far, so why not do something completely different?"

A small smile tugged at the corner of Kyle's mouth.

"I can see why that would make sense," Kyle considered. "And I think you're very brave."

"Thanks," Stan smiled sheepishly, warmth stirring in his chest that wasn't from the scotch.

"You say that being safe and cautious hasn't gotten you very far-"

"Hmm?" Stan was wondering where Kyle was going with this.

"Well, where did you expect it would take you?" Kyle asked, and Stan realized he was genuinely curious. "Where do you want to go?"

"Wow," Stan said with a blink. "Um… I haven't really thought about that."

It was so embarrassing and telling, and Stan refused to believe he could have been so blind.

The rather harsh epiphany was softened by Kyle's smile. In fact, it roused an epiphany of its own, smaller but definitely significant. Kyle's compassion, his unadulterated enthusiasm, had allowed Stan to form a connection with two people he had known for less than a week. A connection that was teeming with chemistry, attraction, understanding, excitement and fear, a collision of emotions he hadn't established with another human being since Gary left, let alone two. His life had been so numb and careful in his love's absence and Eric and Kyle had proven to be the thrill, the high, the spark of life he had needed. And for it to be so quick and natural and visceral and tempting must've meant it was right? That it was a risk worth taking?

"But I do know…" Stan began, evaluating the situation one last time. "I know that I want to have a drink with you guys."

Kyle blinked, and his surprise lit up his face so cutely, so convincingly for Stan. "Really?"

"Yeah, I do," Stan replied with a thoughtful smile. "I want to see where the night takes us."

Kyle's smile widened and he nodded, "okay, sounds good."

With soft, short chuckles, rippling with anticipation, Stan and Kyle rose from the bar stools.

Before they left, Kyle absently turned to the bartender and asked, "Can I get a dirty martini please?"

"Sure," the bartender replied, quickly making Kyle his drink (and refiling Stan's) before Stan and Kyle headed back to the table.

"Hey, you guys alright?" Eric asked, edged with concern, when they approached him.

"Yeah, we're great," Stan replied, still a tad shaky when he took a seat. "I was just a little nervous but I'm fine now."

"I get it," Eric nodded, before he leaned in and revealed, "I was nervous as hell when I asked Kyle out."

Stan grinned before Kyle pointed out, "you were drunk when you asked me out."

"And why was that?" Eric retorted. "I needed a little Dutch courage," he added, winking at Stan.

Stan shot him an uneasy smile, flushing as he raised his tumbler to his lips.

"I've been telling you for nearly ten years, there was no need to be nervous," Kyle explained, his smile softening his bite. "Didn't you notice how much I flirted with you whenever we hung out?"

"If that was the case, then why didn't you make the first move?" Eric asked, his voice taking on a husky quality as he leaned in closer to Kyle.

"No," Kyle smirked, staring at Eric's mouth. He directed his attention to his martini when he said, "I never asked guys out."

"Me neither," Stan added and when Eric and Kyle both looked at him his nerves swelled. He laughed shakily, "then again, guys never asked me out so…"

He was glad when Eric and Kyle laughed at his joke, putting him at ease instantly.

Kyle took another gulp of his martini before he said, "hey Stan…"

"Hmm?" Stan responded after he swallowed a mouthful of scotch.

"Can I let you in on a secret?" Kyle asked, eyes glinting.

Stan nodded, and replied a little breathlessly, "sure…"

"Most of the time, nerves come from excitement," Kyle revealed.

It wasn't what Stan was expecting, but Kyle's words still reverberated.

"Eric and I were nervous to meet you, but also really excited," Kyle added.

"You were?" Stan asked.

Kyle rolled his eyes.

"Yes!" He laughed, exasperated. "Can you do us a favor and stop doubting yourself?"

Stan couldn't help it, questioning himself was a force of habit.

"You're a catch, Stan Marsh," Eric chimed in, nodding at Stan like he was trying to prove to him his word was golden. "Of all the guys who contacted us on that site, you were the most handsome-"

"And the most endearing," Kyle interrupted, reaching across the table and taking Stan's hand.

Kyle's fingers were damp on Stan's knuckles, just like his own digits. The unexpected contact made Stan forget his words, rekindled that glow in his chest, but also reminded him that he and Kyle and Eric weren't so different.

"Wow, thanks," Stan chuckled, looking up at the smiling couple. "I know I freaked out earlier but I was really looking forward to meeting you guys too."

"Maybe being nervous is your heart's way of telling you you're onto something good?" Kyle said, his shrug was casual but his voice was hopeful.

"Yeah…" Stan considered, glancing at his scotch before looking more decisively at Eric and Kyle, "yeah, maybe."

But the way Eric and Kyle smiled at him was confirmation enough for Stan.

* * *

When he had decided that he was definitely going home with Eric and Kyle, Stan dialled back the scotches. He may have needed the 'Dutch courage' that Eric mentioned earlier, but he also needed to be sober enough to not fall asleep in the cab and – most importantly – be able to get it up.

Though as the night went on - and the martinis and scotches flowed at their steady, knowing pace – Stan realised that arousal wasn't going to be a problem. When the night was still decidedly young and the conversation had revolved around jobs and amusing anecdotes, Stan still felt those pleasurable surges. The ones Stan had when he noticed something different in a person, something enthralling enough for his mind to conjure, hazy watercolour fantasies. As Stan talked about his lifelong love of animals and how it led him to be a veterinary assistant, he couldn't help but be drawn to Kyle's soft, fascinated smile that he wanted to taste and meld with his own. When Eric laughed and his golden eyes shimmered at a college tale, Stan found himself caught in the aureate storm, wanting to close his own eyes and see darkened, amber irises staring back at him with lust.

Cataloguing the desirable features of the handsome couple was what made Stan slow down his drinking. But the night didn't stagnate, it became more colourful, raucous and torrid; Eric was nuzzling Kyle's ear when Kyle wasn't cupping his face and pulling him into committed kisses, while they both played footsy with Stan under the table. Scotch had nearly dribbled from Stan's nose when he felt a perfectly poised foot snake up his leg, but he immediately relaxed, even with the anonymity.

The night slipped away carelessly like a melted twilight, and despite Stan's vow of sobriety for the rest of the evening, Eric and Kyle made his tongue looser. He coyly circled the rim of his tumbler yet smiled smugly when pressed for his sexual escapades, of which Stan had a decent collection… surprisingly, even to him. Eric and Kyle listened eagerly, crowding around Stan before swaying and tangling each other up in giggling, flustered knots when they revealed the details of their countless trysts they had shared over their nine year history.

It made Stan curious, aroused and greedy, so much so that when Kyle asked him if he wanted to come back to their place, Stan had to stop himself from saying 'yes' too quickly.

It was two AM when the threesome piled into a cab, Eric sat in the middle and tried to give the taxi driver directions while Kyle bit and sucked at his neck. The cab pulled off and Eric fell into Kyle's kiss with a surprised groan, a perfect partner for Kyle's wet, satisfied moan. This left Stan pressed awkwardly against the door as Kyle's leg was slung over Eric's lap. Meanwhile, Eric tried very hard not to mount his boyfriend in the back of a cab as they made out through every stop sign.

Maybe they were just excited.

Maybe they were both passionate souls who were meant for each other.

Or maybe they were still so in love, so enamored after all this time that they didn't need Stan or anybody else to add kerosene to what was already a roaring fire.

In any other circumstance, Stan would've felt incredibly annoyed… or been very drunk. Yes, he felt the former residually, but his initial, persistent feeling was arousal. Out of sheer politeness, he didn't gawk at Eric and Kyle's display, fixing his gaze to the Denver streets in early morning instead. But he couldn't drown out the _noises_. Nor did he want to.

He subtly wetted his own lips at the sound of slippery, satisfactory smacks when the kisses broke, when lungs vied for air before lips reconfigured with their match. Oh, did Eric and Kyle's mouths make a great team… or great rivals, breaking each other down in glorious, sensual battle.

Stan suffocated his own whimpers and whispered curses whenever the couple gasped and moaned beside him. Stan wondered exactly what Kyle did with his tongue to make Eric growl like that, gravelly and ravenous enough that even Stan could feel the lusty tremors. He was undoubtedly curious as to how Eric made Kyle jolt and press himself closer to him, creating friction and keening for electricity like they were starved conductors for each other. Stan longed to be shocked and scorched.

These enviable sounds were taking their toll on Stan, sweat stung the nape of his neck, his tongue felt like sandpaper in his mouth and a semi was starting to strain against his underwear.

It was difficult to be oblivious when his body was reacting this way. He pursed his lips, scratched at his thigh, counted the streetlamps and suppressed the dawning thought that maybe he wasn't needed anymore.

Humid breath in his ear made him shiver and jolt.

"Staaaan?" Eric whispered. The voice that Stan had become accustomed to over the course of the evening picked up and dragged the lone vowel in his name.

"Hmm?" Stan's lips were still sealed, lest an embarrassing moan escape. He clenched his fists at his thighs.

As if recognising Stan's futile resistance, Eric grinned; slick, pleased and smug against Stan's neck.

Lolling his heavy head again, Eric hummed the question in Stan's ear: "Are you feeling left out?"

_God, yes._

"No!" Stan exclaimed, as startled as an alley cat. A humiliated flush rolled over him, smothering him. "N-no, not at all! I-I was just-"

Stan didn't know if Eric's low chuckle was imagined or not, but it didn't matter, because those two strong fingers that pressed under his chin were real. They tilted Stan's tired, unkissed head towards him and even before their lips met Stan was delirious with impatience and anticipation. But the kiss was so sublime that Stan's eyes not only widened in surprise but in wonder too. He wondered how he had managed without a kiss for so long, but he was glad he was parched. It made Eric's kisses all the richer.

Eric's lips - stained with spirits and Kyle - painted Stan's mouth rose. His taste buds stung and scorched with Eric's fiery taste, dancing on a tongue that pushed its way into Stan's gladly aching mouth. Stan was relieved that Eric was hungry and restless because he needed, wanted, to be gorged on. His eyes slipped shut, fluttering and squeezing, along to Eric's breathless, erratic tempo. So exhilarating and challenging. He was envious of Kyle's first kiss with him, but if Eric still kissed him like this now then Stan considered Kyle to be very lucky indeed.

While Stan's eyes had closed helplessly, his legs had opened with clear intentions. His trousers were tented, but in the darkness of the cab it was unnoticeable. Adrenaline clutched Stan's heart when he realised he didn't care either way. But when his knee pushed against Eric's, Stan didn't know what to expect. That was until a large hand cupped his thigh, obscenely close to his groin, and squeezed. Snowy fireworks rocketed behind his eyelids and he nearly cried into Eric's mouth at the touch.

Their lips unclasped with their own satisfying pop, and a bashful smile was seared into Stan's hot face.

"What was that?" Eric asked around his laboured breathing.

His eyes were smouldering in the dim light, focused on Stan's lips that warmed the ebony-amber coals.

Stan was struggling to catch his breath, his heartbeat, his racing mind… He could hardly jog his memory. What was he going to say before Eric kissed him?

Stan shook his head and replied, "Nothing…"

Eric grinned, lips gleaming against white teeth. Stan cringed as his panting filled the silence. But the sound of his breathing was interrupted by Kyle shifting in his seat. Kyle's smile flickered and Stan's own smirk was wobbly as he watched Kyle lean over. He wanted Kyle to kiss him, sure, but he felt so spent already, he didn't know if he had the energy-

Kyle's lips landed on Stan's like the meeting were a happy accident, and he smiled into the sloppy, non-committal kiss. Their lips slid against each other, rousing enough sparks to prickle at every sensitive nerve ending; a tender and warm afterglow to the charged, hot kiss Stan had received from Eric barely minutes ago.

Stan's curiosities were finally silenced when that talented, flexible tongue prodded at his lips and entered his mouth. Stan readily reciprocated, but Kyle was already expertly teasing him and despite Stan's efforts he couldn't keep up: especially when Kyle applied the necessary friction to make Stan's surprised, sated whimper gain an octave. Kyle guided Stan down from his temporary high, and while Stan was half-lidded and reeling, Kyle grinned and bit his lip before pulling away.

Scorched and shocked, fulfilled and empty, Stan slumped in his seat and savoured the mingling tastes. In the tense, thick silence Stan supposed Eric and Kyle were waiting for his reaction to the inaugural kisses, but all Stan could do was chuckle hollowly, deliriously.

He felt drunker than he was and wasn't sure if he was even there, if Eric and Kyle hadn't kissed him senseless. But he felt Eric's hand resume its place on his thigh and he knew.

* * *

"Woah," the word slipped from Stan's mouth as he stared around Eric and Kyle's living room. Admittedly, it wasn't spectacular or lavish. Instead it felt domestic, cherished and lived in. "This is a really nice place…"

"You think so?" Kyle asked. He was the last of the threesome to take his shoes off at the door and hang his coat on the rack.

"We're actually looking for something bigger," Eric added from the couch.

"Still, it's lovely," Stan smiled, wondering what more Eric and Kyle had that he could possibly want. "Like, homey."

Away from the cab and the heat and the inviting darkness, Stan felt slightly embarrassed of their undeniably great kisses. The transition from cab to apartment had been stilted and lukewarm, and now he was standing in such a lovely apartment… One that possessed the kind of content aura he wished to live in someday. It certainly didn't seem like a place for trysts such as these to occur.

Stan supposed he felt uninvited, like he was intruding or gate-crashing on a dream – a relationship - that wasn't his.

"Take a seat, if you want," Kyle's offer infiltrated his sudden doubt.

The kind of doubt that presents itself when what you've wanted is right in front of you, or when the event you've been waiting for is close to commencing.

"Okay," Stan replied weakly, with an even weaker nod.

He took a seat next to a smiling, patient Eric and their close proximity reminded Stan to cross his legs. He was still affected by those kisses, their memory lustily underscored the more concerning thoughts that raced through Stan's head.

The couch dipped beside him, but Stan didn't acknowledge Kyle.

"Are you still nervous?" Kyle asked softly, peering at Stan with those probing green eyes that he couldn't ignore.

Tongue pressed to the roof of his dry mouth, sucking in every shaking breath, Stan nodded silently for a couple of seconds.

"Yeah, a little," Stan released his answer with a sigh. "Aren't you guys?"

Stan looked between the two of them, and was unsurprised to see Eric and Kyle glancing at each other. This far into their relationship, every experience was a team effort; even individual endeavors required the other taking some responsibility. In love and affection's thrall, they had to heed to one another, because heartache, fear and disappointment are so seamlessly transmitted when stars and hearts are crossed.

Kyle shrugged and his gaze was still on Eric. But he turned to Stan to give their answer. "I guess…"

"But mostly excited," Eric interjected, before he glanced at Stan's lap. "Speaking of… Why do you have your legs crossed, Stan?"

Stan gulped, (though it hurt his throat) and shifted in his seat.

"I, uh…" Stan didn't know how to explain his way out when the evidence was right there. "Well, I'm excited too and I just didn't… want you guys to see it…"

Stan trailed off, the sentence leaving a taste of stupidity in his mouth. He hunched his shoulders and ducked his head.

"But we want to know if you're having a good time, Stan," Eric said softly, leaning in.

Kyle followed, nodding beside Stan before there was sharp pressure at his ear lobe. Kyle's bite mellowed into a hot, gentle suckle that made crossing his legs all the more difficult for Stan.

" _Ahh_ …" Stan moaned, he wondered if that was the sound of his sexual frustration being relieved. "Y-yeah, I'm having a really good time-"

That was enough confirmation for Eric; he swooped in and started to pepper Stan's neck with kisses before he could finish his sentence.

"Oh fuck…" Stan whispered, squeezing his eyes shut and shyly writhing at the new sensations. "A, a great time…"

Kyle's hand was resting loyally on his knee. To support himself or Stan, Stan wasn't sure, but Eric's palm had rested on his chest. His touch was gentler than in the cab – remarkably and effortlessly so – and Stan was fascinated by Eric's apparent dexterity.

The pads of Eric's thick fingers slid across the resistant material of Stan's shirt, and delved into the space the buttons had missed. Like he was now a burning conductor to Kyle and Eric's special brand of electricity, Stan immediately keened to the touch with a feverish whimper.

Kyle's voice was humid in temperature, but tentative in tone when he asked in Stan's ear, "should we uh- take this into the bedroom?"

The offer was so tantalizing, the phrasing so endearing, and the emotions it roused so confusing and panic-inducing, that Stan had no other reaction but to chuckle.

And nod, because nervous and self-conscious Stan may have been, but he was also so fucking horny and Eric and Kyle were two of the most exhilarating people he had ever met.

Kyle's hand snaked up his thigh – a deliberately rocky journey – before it found Stan's own hand cushioned between their two bodies.

"Come on…" Kyle whispered, and Stan was sure the words were now shimmering on his skin.

Stan decided that letting things happen to him, trailing after the initiative of others, was a lot less nerve-wracking than shakily setting off a chain of events himself. So he let Kyle lead him the short distance from the living room to the bedroom, with Eric following close behind.

Kyle's damp palm slid against the brass doorknob, and he fell into the bedroom pulling Stan with him. Drunk in every sense of the word, Kyle stumbled as he flicked the light switch on, the room flooding with cream walls and a neatly made bed expecting company.

Stan didn't have enough time to absorb his new surroundings before Kyle cupped his face and pulled him to his lips. Stan's eyes had widened briefly, but Kyle's plush mouth and flexible tongue sent them closing in submission. Surprisingly, a part of Stan's mind was still concerned with the world outside of this apartment, and he thought back to his first conversation with Kyle, and their other sporadic conversations throughout the week.

He hadn't known what a great kisser Kyle was then, he hadn't known what Eric's touch could do to him, and before a week ago he had no knowledge of Eric and Kyle's existence… And yet, here he was…

In one of the more detached moments of their kiss, a small, disbelieving laugh escaped from Stan's throat. Hands still cupping Stan's face, Kyle grinned (albeit a little blurry in Stan's vision) and pressed their foreheads together.

"Eric and I made the right choice with you," Kyle revealed lowly, searching Stan's eyes to show him how much he meant it. Kyle connected their lips roughly before pulling away again, staring at Stan's flushed mouth when he whispered, "you're so fucking cute…"

"Not as cute me though, right?" Eric asked from the door.

Kyle looked behind Stan with a knowing grin, and Stan glanced over his shoulder to find Eric's deep, focused stare.

Stan slid his gaze back to Kyle, who was now holding his hand out to Eric; flushed, wicked and adoring.

"Get over here…" Kyle commanded breathlessly.

Eric grinned and with a couple of purposeful strides, took Kyle in his arms. Kyle threw his limp, swooning arms around Eric's neck, before taking charge of the kiss and moving his hands to their preferred spot; Eric's face.

There was no continuous reel of nightlife to conveniently distract Stan, no darkness, the novelty of yet-to-be-kissed had been thrown away…Stan _had_ to look. Hard and sweating and with the taste of Kyle in his mouth, smeared all over his lips, Stan watched Eric and Kyle kiss with the kind of passion that defied their nine year relationship. With his hands on Eric's face, Kyle literally held the kiss, able to push his tongue into Eric's mouth when he felt like it and guiding Eric to do the same, while Eric's hands were on Kyle's rump and he squeezed when they were pressed flush together.

They pushed each other away with the only kind of rough, uncontrolled emotion that could follow such sincere, swelling lust. But they were still close, as if their recent union was still so taut that moving any further away would be a severance. Kyle's fingers were clumsy and impatient as he pulled apart the buttons on his shirt, and when every button was opened, Eric ensnared Kyle in his arms once again and tugged the shirt from his shoulders.

Pale skin exposed, now another sensitive layer to beg for voltaic contact which Eric's hands so skillfully provided. And as they kissed with relentless mouths, Eric's fingers stroked and slid along the expanse of – what Stan was realizing, was _delectable_ – skin with the pressure Kyle wanted and the finesse he needed, leaving the most beautiful, faint pink marks; the color of enduring affection. Kyle must have felt it, felt the loveliness of Eric's efforts when their mouths separated and he rested his head on Eric's shoulder. Clutching him in pleasure, eyes closed contently with trust.

Stan's heart stung fondly at the sight, but greedily too.

"Can I?" He asked, trying to break the couple's haze as politely as he could.

Kyle tilted his head slowly, heavy eyes opening and revealing mossy irises. "What?"

Stan glanced at his feet, before he looked up. Kyle was still there waiting for his request. "Can I touch you?"

Eric stopped, pink-faced as he pulled away from Kyle's neck to return his boyfriend's grin.

"Sure," Kyle nodded, speaking in the most temptingly soft tone Stan had ever heard.

He smiled shakily, fingers quaking as Kyle slipped out of Eric's embrace and made his way over to Stan like an apparition. But Kyle wasn't illusion, a trick of the light, he was skin and sound and reality. Stan hoped his heart's pounding was for his ears only, and a small half-smile flickered above his trembles. Kyle reached for Stan's wrist and guided Stan's hand to his chest, his heartbeat; it flinched at the fingers it was unaccustomed to feeling.

Kyle's skin was so encouragingly warm that Stan dared to place another hand on Kyle's chest and trail his fingers down. Fingertips passing over and kissing erect pink nipples, the faint outline of ribs and the velvet smoothness of a flat stomach like perhaps his hungry lips would later. But for now, Stan's lips were concerned with something else. Grabbing and squeezing Kyle's hips with boldness that preluded him, Stan gently brought their lips together, Kyle's surprise simmering as the kiss deepened.

After a couple seconds of Kyle sliding his fingers over the buttons of Stan's shirt coyly, he broke the kiss with an assuring nuzzle into Stan's cheek, before popping the first button open. Stan didn't protest, emboldened by thoughtless actions and the lilting philosophy of going along with the lead of others. In his hooded vision, Stan saw Eric pull his own shirt over his head, revealing a broad chest and a soft belly. Much like his boyfriend, Eric moved, phantasmal, behind Stan pressing him to his warm, flush body and wrapping him up in strong arms. Kyle managed to pull – no, _throw_ – Stan's shirt from his shoulders while Eric's determined kisses and bites at Stan's neck turned him into a pliable ragdoll for himself and Kyle. But Stan wasn't a plaything (as oddly arousing as the concept seemed), he was a human with a sprinting heart and heaving lungs, a pulse screaming like Morse code for his ears only.

It had been so long. So very, very long and how Stan had missed being wanted, coveted, charted with kisses and unwrapped like the most desirable of gifts.

Stan dipped his head back, leaning on Eric's wide shoulder, sweat taping hair to his forehead and his burning eyes had closed at the feeling of two sets of lips on him. Kyle kissed under his jaw first, before he mouthed at Stan's salty neck, leaving hot, breathy promises of bites and bruises that may or may not be carried through. Stan didn't care, about anyone or anything when he was being unwound so perfectly. Kyle kissed and laved at the divot between Stan's neck and collarbone, marking his journey down Stan's chest with pecks that juxtaposed the nips and sucks Eric was leaving on Stan's ravished neck and shoulder.

When Kyle reached Stan's nipple, he didn't hesitate to take the small bud into his mouth.

"Unnh!" Stan had always been sensitive there…

Kyle cut the suckle short at the sound of Stan's groaning, releasing the nipple from his mouth. Through the fog Stan could see Kyle glancing and grinning up at him.

"You like that, Stan?" Eric's whisper was coarse and torrid.

He didn't wait for Stan to spit out an answer before he reached for his other nipple and twisted.

" _Aah, yes!"_ Stan cried, and in doing so pressed himself further into Eric's chest and felt the erection tenting his jeans. He was frozen, trapped and so desperately curious that all he could do was arch his back and let the delirious waves of anxiety, excitement and persistent confusion wash over him. All he could do was give in to the pleasures of Eric rubbing his sore nipple between his thick fingers, of Kyle dragging his wet, ardent tongue over his chest, and of that hard cock pushed up against him.

Pangs of panic, of overkill, splintered Stan's arousal regardless and everything was moving too quickly, weighing down on him too heavily for him to keep up. As his sexual frustration was swiftly unravelled, his libido and – more worryingly, his chest – was being wound up tighter and tighter; leaving him teetering over the edge and nearly gasping for breath.

It was only when his pants felt a little looser on his hips that Stan realised Kyle was on his knees, unbuckling his belt. The material dropped to his ankles and Stan choked on a relieved gasp, it felt great to be rid of those confining trousers, though his underwear – tight and already stained with a dark patch of pre-cum – was still constraining.

Kyle placed his hands on Stan's thighs before he parted his lips and mouthed at Stan's bulge, his upper lip brushing against that wet spot.

" _Kyle_!" Stan shouted, gripping Kyle's curls and burying his face in his crotch, because this was so unfair… and unbearable… and so fucking hot.

He heard Kyle gasp and loosened his hold quickly, stroking Kyle's hair and fingering his curls apologetically.

Kyle rubbed at Stan's thighs when he asked, threadbare, "want me to suck you?"

Stan had never considered forthrightness sexy, but God damn was it on Kyle. Honestly, he was starting to wonder how these two ever got out of bed and lived their lives outside of making each other come. His mouth hung slack as he deliberated an answer, before Eric interjected.

"You'll enjoy it," he purred, nuzzling under Stan's ear.

Stan didn't doubt that, and he was still staring down, awed, at Kyle when Eric pinched his chin, turned his head and smashed their lips together in a brief, but deep kiss.

"His mouth is fucking amazing…" Eric vowed, and when he heard Kyle snicker below him, he dutifully returned a smirk to his boyfriend.

Stan felt limp in Eric's arms, struggling to keep up with his rapid breathing and his legs were shaking as all that was being offered to him was close to making him crumble.

"I, I know…" Stan managed to get out, figuring he should just give up on full sentences. "When he kissed me… his tongue… oh God, both of you are incredible…"

Every breath was searing as Stan's lungs burned, and he gulped for air as if there were a limited supply. He was panting again, loud and laboured but this time he didn't care.

"Hey, you alright?" Eric asked.

"No," Stan forced the word out as he shook his head. "No, I'm not, I'll… I-I'll be back in a minute…"

He scrambled out of Eric and Kyle's hold and rushed out of the room. He nearly crashed into the hallway wall, the small segue between the bedroom and living room but there was lusty, melting adrenaline in his veins and not enough breath in his lungs so he stumbled into the living room.

Stan nearly ripped his coat off the rack as he searched his pockets for his inhaler. It had been a long time since an asthma attack had interrupted a romantic encounter, but he felt it was better to be safe than sorry. And look where he was now… inhaling all the air it could give him, before his now heavy lungs made him slump against the wall, panting as he slid to the floor. His mind was still whirring, all that wasted energy as he sat on the floor rushed around his brain and made him dizzy.

In his boxers, away from Eric and Kyle, he suddenly felt cold and his aching arousal was a gnawing pang that still needed to be placated. The solution lay in the imprints of Eric's teeth on his shoulder, the slick trail Kyle had left on his chest… But surely that's where his downfall had been as well? It had led him here, panicked and shaken and struggling to breathe. Yes, he was incredibly turned on, and yes, he hadn't felt so enlivened in a long time… but were Eric and Kyle too much for him? More than that, was he enough for them?

The sound of moaning drifted from the bedroom door, opened ajar, and into the lonely living room; capturing Stan's attention and he strained his ears to hear more. He heard the clunking of belts and trousers hitting the hardwood floor, he heard the groans, the glinting cries, he even heard the springs of the mattress protesting with added weight.

And desire was stoked in his gut, making him squirm curiously on the floor. Like their company in the bar, their kiss in the cab, the way they undressed each other in the bedroom, Stan was in wanting. More specifically, he wanted and now longed to be a part of it. And if you really want something, yearn for something, _desire_ something, then you need to take initiative, be brave and often times do things that are unexpected of you. Maybe that had held Stan back? Stubborn, petty resistance that this 'wasn't who he was' when he still didn't know fully; and perhaps scary, new experiences like these was how a person discovers themselves?

Stan rose from the floor and exited the living room more steadily than he had entered it. He shivered at the vibrant noises he heard the closer he got to the bedroom, frightening him and encouraging him simultaneously.

Gingerly pushing the door open, inhaler in hand, Stan stepped into the room and his eyes widened at what he saw. Pants and underwear abandoned on the floor, the couple kissed and writhed on the bed, erections aligned and throbbing as they rubbed together.

Stan scratched at his thigh, feeling more of a voyeur than ever. Had they even noticed him enter the room? Stan wouldn't be surprised if they hadn't. Although they were very much on his mind, Stan doubted anything but each other were on theirs. Especially him, the guy who has asthma attacks when supremely turned on and who freaked out on them. Well, Stan supposed, there was only one way to find out.

He set his inhaler on the nightstand before pulling his boxers down. Remarkably, his hands didn't quake and when the material pooled around his ankles, he kicked the pesky underwear off.

"Hey," Stan said, with the tiniest of wobbles in his voice.

Lip lock breaking with a wet smack, Eric and Kyle both turned their darkened eyes to him, bodies quivering.

"Can I…" Stan started, taking a breath before he smiled and asked, "Can I join you?"

As always, Eric and Kyle looked at each for grinning confirmation before Kyle nodded and held out his hand. Stan moved closer, gladly took a hold of it and let Kyle pull him onto the bed, into something new, exciting and wonderful.


End file.
